


Hold On

by GloryBox



Series: Roads [1]
Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Dad max, Gen, Slow Burn, Some Humor, Some sadness, he eventually returns to the citadel, he needs it tbh, max is gonna be friends with everybody, there may or may not be a cat
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-20
Updated: 2015-08-25
Packaged: 2018-04-16 06:01:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4613892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GloryBox/pseuds/GloryBox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Max runs into a familiar face stranded in the Wasteland.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is my first ever fic in my life so...keep that in mind. This fic isn't going to get too heavy but there will be mentions of infant death, past rape and a little violence as it goes on.

It was never wise to move at the heat of the day, the luxury that was air conditioning was as dead and gone as the old world, and driving fast with the windows down didn’t cut it. So Max found himself having a siesta in the shade of a large rock formation, waiting for the sun to lower before continuing his journey to Barter town.

  
Typically, he avoided that place like the plague, but when he scraped the bottom of his last can of dog food he sighed and looked at the horizon, knowing exactly where he was going to have to go next. Besides reaching the end of his food rations he was also almost out of water and guzzaline. At this point, he couldn’t avoid it even if it was the plague.

  
He was sitting against the rock, arms loosely crossed, his legs sprawled in front of him and head tilted back against the warm stone. He was dozing, rendered tired from the heat and vague feeling of starvation starting to form in his stomach. His eyelids drooped shut and for a blissful moment his mind was blank as sleep started to seep through his brain, relaxing his limps and slowing his breathing.

  
Then the sound of a loud engine jerked him back into full consciousness, eyes snapping open, hand reaching for the handgun in his jacket pocket. Distantly he could see a car flying over the dunes, seemingly swerving without purpose. He scrambled up to his car, grabbing a pair of binoculars from the inside, one barrel hollow except for glass shards from when a bullet had gone straight through, shooting the previous owner right in the eye. He looked through the still existing lens with one eye closed, lip curled as he struggled to see through the dirty glass.

  
A car was driving erratically across the dunes, he didn’t actually see anyone driving, but he thought he glimpsed a pale hand on the wheel. He watched, confused and vaguely concerned, eyebrows furrowed as he squinted through his one usable binocular lens. Suddenly the speeding car hit the side of a dune wrong, he sucked in a breath as the car flipped, again and again and again. He watched as it landed on its roof, sliding a couple feet, wheels spinning in the air as dust rose up around the wreck.

  
A questioning grunt escaped him as he lowered the binoculars. His eyebrows remained furrowed while the corners of mouth pulled down as he contemplated whether he should go help. _You gonna look and see if they need help or not sunny?_ Keeper of the Seeds asked. He wasn’t spooked by her ghost, not since her first appearance in his passenger seat as he left the Citadel, making him jump so badly he jerked the wheel and nearly flipped his own car.

  
“Mhm.” He hummed to himself then shook his head. “Nah.” He said to Keeper, turning to go back in his car. He started to drive off, deliberately going in the opposite direction of the flipped car, but when he looked in the rear view mirror he saw it laying there, the wheels finally still, he sighed and cut the wheel, U turning back to the wreck. When he rolled up to the other vehicle he cut the engine and slowly got out of his car. He pulled out the handgun and quietly approached the wrecked vehicle, straining his ears for any sign of life. Kindness could get you killed in the Wasteland. He cleared his throat, approaching the driver’s side door.

  
“Everything okay?” He asked, feeling horribly stupid.   _What do you think boy?  They just flipped their car 8 times!_   Keeper of the Seeds snapped at him “Anyone hurt?” He revises, afraid to look into the car. His paranoia made it very easy to envision a scenario where he ducked down and looked in only to see the barrel of a gun pointed at him while the injured and defensive driver blew his brains out.

  
Suddenly he heard gasping. “ _Hel…Help_.” A female voice huffed out. Max took a deep breath and finally looked in. He could make out the shape of a woman crumpled against the roof of the car, pale hair obscuring her face. She was breathing hard but he couldn’t see anything obviously wrong.

  
“Oh…” His gravelly voice concerned. “Okay. I-I’ll get you out.” He said, putting the gun in the waistband of his pants as he went around to the other side to where she seemed closer too. He pulled on the passenger side door, which seemed to be jammed from the landing on it. He ducked down fast to rumble out a “Hold on” as he ran back to his car and dug around until he found a crow bar. He ran back and started wedging it between the door frame. He grit his teeth, he was beginning to sweat, the heat of the day still yet to cool, and the door was definably jammed. Just as he was about to give up and try the other side he finally cracked the door open.

  
He sighed in relief and pulled the dented frame wide and got down on his knees. He held out a gloved hand (though the glove was so ratted and old all the finger tips where gone) to the girl, who was curled in on herself. He could only see the back of her head and glimpses of pale hair pooling around her from around a hood.

  
“Here. Take my hand.” He grunted, not meaning to sound as gruff as he did. Gingerly, a pale hand with long fingers wrapped around his. He pulled her right through the door in a swift (and fairly impressive) movement which involved him going from on his knees, to on his haunches, too falling back completely on the sand. He grunted but got up quick, still wary though fairly certain the lanky pale girl in front of him didn’t pose much a threat. He helped her up and only when she finally stood and he looked her right in the face did he recognize her.

  
“You?” He grunted in lieu of a name, which he remembered half a second later. _The Dag_.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max and the Dag experience the absolute delight that is Barter Town.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is implied human trafficking, but nothing explicit happens.

The Dag looked equally surprised too see him, then relieved. 

“Max?”   She asked, assessing him as he did the same to her. 

“You hurt?”  He asked, spotting several cuts on her, one of which was on her temple and beginning to bleed down.  She was hugging her right side, wincing, he suspected her ribs where hurting her.  She shook her head slightly while he stared at her with a concerned expression.  “You sure?”  He asked.  She nodded and he sighed.  He jerked his head around to look behind them, looking to see if there were other cars in pursuit but there was nothing but sand. 

“What happened?” He asked, nodding to her car.  She turned her head to look at it too. 

“One of the caps to one of the fuel tanks came off and started leaking everywhere, I was trying to grab it without stopping but then…”  She trailed off, waving one hand in the direction of her flipped car. 

“Someone chasing you?” 

“Buzzards a few clicks back, but I think I lost them.  Too spooked to slow down you know?” 

Max nodded, very familiar with the feeling.  Then he asked the most pressing question on his mind: “Why are you…out here…”  He drew out, gesturing towards the waste.    . 

Dag dropped her head, fidgeting with her one gloved hand. 

“I was running away.”  She said softly.  Max looked incredulously at her. 

“The Citadel alright?”  He asked.  She nodded.

“Yea.” 

“Then what are you running away for?”  He asked, his brow drawn down.  Suddenly her eyes where brimmed with tears that she hastily wiped away with her palm.

“You wouldn’t understand.”  She mumbled angrily, sniffling.  Max sighed. 

“Well…you okay going back now?”  He asked.  She nodded, tears still falling down her cheeks.  Max stepped back, taking a deep breath, looking at the horizon beyond her.  "I'll take you back."  He mumbled, eyes darting back to hers, then away again.  He hummed to himself, as if surprised by his own offer.  

Then he asked if she had anything important left in her car and she had a bag half full of food, water, and a gun, which he retrieved for her on account of her sore ribs.  Then he asked how much guzzaline she had, hoping to avoid the trip to Barter Town, but she said she was almost empty.  He led her to his car, and they both climbed in.  

“Gotta stop at Barter Town for guzzaline first before we go back.”  He said, starting the car, the engine roaring to life.  The Dag nodded and softly muttered “Okay.” 

 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

The drive is silent, Max keeping a watchful eye around them, the Dag laying back in recline in the passenger seat, apathetically watching the barren landscape shift up and down with every sand dune rising and falling.  Barter Town came into view about 3 miles away, the shacks and lean-ins distorted by the heat mirage.  About a mile off, Max pulls over by a small formation of rocks.  

“We gotta walk into town.”  He said, throwing everything he had to barter with into a large duffel bag. 

“Why can’t we drive there?”  Dag asked, annoyed. 

“Don’t want to drive in there, unless you plan on bartering from your car.”  He grumbled.  She groaned in frustration and got out of the car with him.  After splitting the last of his water and a little of hers, keeping the rest for the walk back (or emergency bartering), eating some of the bean paste she brought with her, they started the long trek across the sand to Barter Town.  The Dag’s ribs where hurting her too much to go above a leisurely stroll, but Max wasn’t in a hurry anyways, the idea of being surrounded by people who would happily pick the meat off his bones was foreboding. 

The sun beat down on them, but at least this time the Dag was in much more practical clothing than the last time he saw her, so she had some protection from the sun.  It would also help her blend in with the crowd at Barter town, the dust and dried blood from the wreck were a plus as well.  

Before they left he gave her a large dagger to hide on her person, warning her that people will try to sell _anything_ , including other people, and that there was absolutely no laws or order of any kind there.  She pointed out she had a gun but when he asked if she knew how to use it, she declined, so they left it in the car.  

When they approached the outskirts, the sound of tribal drums became audible, and as they waded into the town the crowd became denser and the drums more boisterous.  Max’s skin was crawling as they pushed through the crowd, every few seconds he jerked around to make sure the Dag was right behind him, then repeatedly checked his pockets, knowing the pick-pockets there where extraordinary.  Once they approached the heart of the town, passing by shacks where people where offering various things (roasted lizards, mismatched boots, obviously unusable car parts, rags for clothing, junk passing for trinkets and bullets and guns), they passed by the source of the drumming; about four people were aggressively playing on makeshift drums, buckets, pots and strange looking metal bowls. 

A small crowd had formed and the Dag watched curiously as they played, then smiled when a little boy started to dance in front of them.  One of the drummers looked up and smiled in absolute delight while his partner flashed her eyes coolly over the kid and continued concentrating on drumming.  Max tugged the Dag along while he looked for a shack selling guzzaline.  He finally found one, a shack manned by a dusty looking man about his age with a pistol unsubtly tucked into his pants.  

“Whatcha lookin for mate?” The trader asked, flashing a yellow toothed grin. 

“Guzzaline.” 

“How much?”  The trader asked excitedly.  Max dumped the contents of his duffel bag on the table in front of them.   

“Whatever I can get for this.”  Max answered.  The trader leaned forward and started sifting through the heap of odd things Max offered, pulling out things he liked and leaving the rest.  In the pile of things the trader intended on keeping was a pistol, some bullets, a spoon, a steering wheel and some rope.  While picking through the original pile, he pulled out a broken watch. 

“What’s this for?”  The trader asked, holding it up. 

“To tell time.” 

“What do you need to do that for?” 

“To keep track of things.”  Max said shortly. 

“And why do you need to do that?” 

Max let out an exasperated sigh. 

 “If you can’t use it then don’t take it.”  Max snapped.  The trader turned the watch over around his fingers, looking fondly at it. 

“Nah, I’ll take it, it’s kinda cool lookin innit?” 

While Max struggled to resist the urge to lean over the table and choke the trader, the Dag turned her head to the side to hide a giggle.  While doing so she spotted something strange on the ground.  A small furry animal staggered around the feet of the people rushing around, meowing, ears flattened against its little head.  Dag approached it, holding out her hand, but the animal darted away, the Dag following after it.  She pushed through the crowd of people, not taking her eyes off the little furball.  She finally caught up to it, scooping it up with one hand, when a pair of hands grabbed her from behind. 

Meanwhile, Max managed to get 6 gallons of gas, which would only fill up his car halfway but it was better than nothing.  The guzzaline was distributed into two oddly shaped gas cans that he stuffed into his duffel bag, one on top of the other, leaving the bag looking bloated and deformed.  He slung it over his shoulder and turned around and immediately felt a jolt of fear when he realized the Dag was nowhere in sight.  His eyes scanned over the crowd, panic rising when he saw a flash of pale hair and heard over the sound of the crowd:

“SMEG!” 

Max glimpsed the Dag and the man trying to pull her into a shack.  Max shoved his way through the crowd, death grip on the strap of his duffel bag, not taking his eyes off them for a second.  He burst into the shack after them, dropping the duffel bag loudly, the assailant whipped around with a rifle aimed at Max’s head, but his plan backfired when Max swiftly grabbed the barrel, jerking it away from his head, and yanked it out of the man’s arms.  Max turned the rifle on the man, who put his arms up in defeat.  The Dag picked something off the ground, which Max glanced at, then did a double take.  She was holding a dusty kitten in her arms, but he could focus on that later. 

Max flipped the rifle around and used the butt of the gun to swiftly hit the man right in the forehead, knocking him out.  The Dag picked her way over to him while Max surveyed the inside of the shack.  He spotted a few cans of food that he quickly slid into his duffel bag, the cans clanking against the metal gas can on top.

“Let’s move.” 

 

xxxxxxxxxx

 

“Is it always crazy like that?”  The Dag asked, stroking the kitten which kept on trying to escape her arms.  Max snorted, remembering candidly his second time there when someone got shot in the middle of the street, and instead of reacting people just stepped over his bleeding body, not even casting a glance at him. 

“Always.”  They were halfway back to his car, the dark sky sparkling with glowing stars.  His shoulder was sore from carrying to heavy duffel bag, but the prospect of having food in his stomach was uplifting enough that he moved right along.  Also the probability that a very angry man might come after them put some pep in his step. 

“Kind of reminds me of when I was a kid, down with the Wretched.”  She said thoughtfully, then the kitten made another attempt to escape, scratching her hand again.  “What’s this thing called again?”  She asked, getting irritated. 

“Kitten.” 

“It’s just a baby right?  It’ll get bigger?” 

“Mhm.” 

“How big?” 

Max shrugged. 

“Heard some stories about feral cats big as dogs.” 

“How big are dogs?” 

“Never mind.”  Max mumbled.  The Dag affectionately shifted the tiring kitten in her arms. 

“So there’s feral cats?  Like you?”  She grinned at him, her eyes lively in the dark.  Max smirked. 

“Not a cat.” 

The Dag, determined the keep the cat no matter what, especially after Max told her that someone probably planned on eating it, once again caught it as it tried to climb its way up her shirt, tiny white claws ripping the fabric as she pulled it away.  It meowed loudly at her as she held it away from her, it’s little body squirming in her hands. 

“Fuck no you’re not, or they’d have put gloves on you instead of a muzzle.” 

Max snorted again, and they continued walking into the dark. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you lovely people for reading!
> 
> I googled indigenous cats to Australia and discovered that a) there are none and b) that feral domestic cats are an invasive species and that seemed fitting that they would survive the apocalypse.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max and The Dag run into trouble while returning to the Citadel.

“Where you born in the Wasteland?”  The Dag asked, the kitten in her lap swatting at her long hair.  After finally making it back to the car Max wanted to put some distance between them and Barter Town, driving for about an hour before caving and stopping to eat.  Now they sat on the dusty ground, Max’s back against the car door while the Dag sat cross-legged adjacent from him a few feet away.  He was concentrating on his can of food and shook his head, chewing rapidly, then grunted.  He looked up at the night sky, figuring out the stars and the directions, then twisted around, pointing behind him. 

“Out there.”  He said, voice low and raspy, then went back to scraping food out of the can. 

“What’s out there?”  Dag asked doubtfully, only able to envision more salt. 

“The ocean.”  He said into his food. 

“Miss Giddy told us about that!”  The Dag said excitedly, a smile lighting up her face.  “What’s it like?”  She asked, her eyes bright.  Max slowed his chewing, carefully figuring out his next words.

“Like…the Plains of Silence, except bigger,”  He made an expanding gesture with his arms, “And water instead of sand.”  He finished. 

“But you can’t drink the water cause there’s salt in it?” 

“Mhm.  Makes you sick.”  He confirmed. 

“Were there green things?” 

Max nodded. 

“Mhm.  Big trees.  Forests of ‘em.  Fields with tall grass.  Some had horses.  Could get food anywhere.  Not like out here.”  

The Dag thoughtfully stroked the now sleeping kitten in her lap. 

“Sounds nice.”  She said softly, looking at him through her eyelashes.  “Why’d you leave?” 

Max froze, looking down at his food, then very slowly began to chew again.  He grunted and then got up. 

“Let’s get moving.” 

 

xxxxxxxxxxxxx 

 

The next day and a half are uneventful.  They were about two days from the Citadel when they first met, the closest Max had been since he left them on the lift four months ago and the farthest the Dag had been since the Fury Road.  The trip to Barter Town added another 6 hours to the trip, three hours there and 3 hours until they pass the crash site again.  Neither say say much, Max content with the silence and the Dag occupied by the kitten that has finally started to warm up to her.  

By the end of the second day, both were exhausted.  The Dag sleepily stared out the window, her chin tucked in the crook of her elbow, the wind softly blowing her hair.  Max’s eyes were bloodshot with dark circles underneath, stinging every time he blinked from lack of sleep.  His head bobbed as exhaustion took him, his eyes drooping shut only to snap back open as he woke himself up again to watch the road. 

He hazily watched the horizon, the sun high in the sky with the Citadel’s towers in the distance.  A figure suddenly appeared in front of them, making Max reflexively jerk the wheel to avoid it.  The Dag hit her head on the window frame, the kitten got thrown down below the glove compartment.  Max jerked around, breathing hard, eyes wide, looking to see if the figure was okay. 

“What is it?”  The Dag asked sounding frightened.  He recognized the figure as Angharad, one arm resting on her swollen belly.  She looked at him coolly, then turned around and disappeared into the heat haze.  The Dag was looking where he was looking but saw nothing.  The hairs on the back of his neck stood up and he jerked back around, scanning the area around them.  Angharad never spoke when she appeared, and she only haunted him when there was danger.  He jerked the car forward, the gas tank getting low again. 

He was reaching for his sawed off shotgun in the back when movement in the hills caught his eye.  _Buzzards_.  He swore, shifting the car into a higher gear.  The Dag spotted them too and looked to him with wide eyes.  He handed her pistol to her. 

“Use two hands.”  He said gruffly, accelerating while grimly stuffing shells into the shotgun.   Two spikey buzzard cars swung out behind them, quickly covering ground.  Max stomped on the gas pedal, jamming it, then leaned out his window and fired the shot gun at one of the approaching buzzards.  The spikey car jerked but then steadied itself, Max then quickly ducked back into his car, an arrow shooting past his head, barely missing him.  While he goes to reload the shotgun the Dag trades him the pistol instead and starts scavenging for shells off the floor.  He looks in the rear view mirror and jerks the car just in time to avoid clashing with the second buzzard, which was now right behind them. 

Max maneuvers the car around dunes, trying to use the terrain to their advantage.  Finally he puts some distance between him and the buzzards and he leans out to fire rapidly.  This time a bullet lands, the spikey car veering sharply into a rock, flipping over it.  The second buzzard accelerated, and fired an arrow into one of the back tires.  The car jerked and Max ducked back in.  The Dag handed him a loaded shot gun and an explosive canister that he had stolen off the end of a lance some time back, forgotten on the floor of his car until this moment.  He took the canister and watched the buzzard in his mirror.  He was going to need to time this just right…

The buzzard was right behind them now, trying to spike the other rear wheel.  Max jammed the gas pedal again, then started to twist around so he could climb out the latch that was once a sun roof. 

“Steer.”  He said to Dag.  He crouched in the driver’s seat, the Dag leaned over to yank the wheel around a rock.  He knew that if he didn’t want an arrow in the head he would need to be lightning fast.  He watched the buzzard through the back window for a moment before shooting up through the roof, hurling the canister as fast as humanly possible into the empty windshield of the buzzard and was in the process of ducking down as it exploded, sending debris everywhere. 

Debris came in through the back window, which had lost its glass long before Max found the car.  Shrapnel and debris hit Max in the face and the back of the Dag’s head, shoulder and the arm on the steering wheel.  Max let out a yelp while the Dag cried out, more from surprise than pain.  He twisted around and took the wheel back then looked at her while she looked at him, both shook up and bleeding.  The material of her shirt blocked most of the debris, though not all of it, and it looked like something had cut her scalp, he could see blood on the fine hairs.  He gestured for her to turn her head so he could get a better look and was relieved when it wasn’t more than cut. 

She looked at him in alarm and he glanced in the rear view mirror.  His forehead had several small cuts on it, a gnash by the side of his eye that was bleeding, it itched as the blood trickled down his cheek like a tear.  He could see bloody spots in his hair but was fine overall, knowing it looked worse than it was.  He winced and nodded at her. 

“You okay?”  He asked, still breathing hard from the adrenaline.  She nodded quickly.  Max then turned his focus back to the road.  “Alright.” 

 

xxxxxxxxxxxxx 

 

The good thing about the chase was that now they were much closer to the Citadel than before, the rock towers looming ahead of them.  The blown tire slowed them down quite a bit unfortunately and it was dusk when they finally rolled into Citadel territory.  A patrol stopped them, a few war boys on a motor bikes pulled up next to them.  Max stopped the car, squinting out as the last rays of sun brightly shined in his eyes. 

“Run into trouble?”  The Warboy closest to him asked.  Max nodded. “Is that your business here then?”  Max shook his head then leaned back, gesturing to the Dag with his thumb.  The war boy leaned down to look in then his mouth dropped. 

“Sister Dag!  You’re alive!”  The Warboy exclaimed. 

“What?”  The Dag asked, confused. 

“Everyone thinks you're dead!”  The other Warboys leaned over their bikes, trying to peer in.  “C’mon! Let’s get you back!” The Warboy shouted as he started his motor bike, shooting ahead of them to spread the word.  Max took his time driving though, mostly because he couldn’t go faster if he wanted to but also the anxiety of returning to this place began to claw at his gut.  The Dag nervously chewed at her thumb nail, the kitten still agitated from being thrown around in the chase meowed at her until she absentmindedly stroked its head. 

“They’re gonna be so mad at me.”  She murmured.   Max kept silent, having nothing to offer.  She turned to him suddenly, eyes wide. 

“You’re gonna stay right?  Just for a couple days?”  She asked urgently.  Max grunted, not really giving an answer. 

“There’s food, and water.  The Black Thumbs can fix your car and there’s _so much_ Green.  You have to see the gardens!”  She pleaded.  Max glanced at her then back to the Citadel.  Finally he nodded. 

“Cars busted anyways.”  He said, not looking at her.  She relaxed and sat back in her seat, a faint smile on her lips.  A few minutes later they drove through the gates and the Warboys lead Max to the very platform that he saw the last time he was there.  Also like the last time he was there, Furiosa, Toast, Capable and Cheedo stood on it, minus the Dag obviously.  Max came to a stop and the Dag slowly got out of the car, placing the kitten behind her on the seat.  Max stayed put and watched the scene in front of him unfold. 

Dag barely made it past his car before the girls where on her, Cheedo grabbing her shoulders, tears streaking down her face, the other girls surrounding her while Furiosa stood in the back, looking shocked. 

“We thought you were dead!”  Cheedo yelled, looking distressed, shaking the Dag’s shoulders, the Dag crying back _I’m sorry!_

“What were you thinking!”  Toast yelled after Cheedo. Capable just hugged her tightly and finally Furiosa walked up to her, inspecting her. 

“Are you okay?”  Furiosa asked, her voice calm.  The Dag nodded, wiping away tears with the back of her hand. 

“Why did everyone think I was dead?”  The Dag asked shakily. 

“After you went missing we sent out a search party and found your car flipped over and the door torn open.  We thought someone got you.”  Furiosa answered steadily, then her eyes flicked over to the car, unable to make out the driver behind the glare on the windshield.   

“How’d you get back?”  Toast asked.

“Max.”  The Dag answered simply.  Everyone looked at her, confused.

“What?”  Capable asked.  The Dag nodded at her. 

“Max found me and drove me back.”  She said.  They all turned around to look at the car now.  Max who had stopped paying attention to them a while ago was leaning forward, trying to see the tops of the rock towers covered in green.  Suddenly he became aware of the sudden silence and his head snapped down to see five women looking at him, four looking completely shocked by his presence.  The Dag motioned for him to come over and he sighed then slowly got out of his car, the door creaking as he opened it then stepped out. 

He stood up and did a curt nod in their direction, not really sure what else to do.  Then Capable broke into a smile and Cheedo perked up, both running over to him.  Cheedo hugged him, he grunted in surprise and she stepped back, giving a big smile that he felt oddly warmed by.  He tried to return it but came off like a grimace.  Capable rested her hand on his shoulder, her smile fading to a look of concern while Toast approached from behind her.  

“You’re all cut up!” Capable exclaimed.  

"And _filthy_!"  Toast said with a look of distaste, though a grin fought its way to her lips.  He grunted, thinking _and water is wet_  then looked up as the girls suddenly parted away from him (Toast smirking) as Furiosa approached.  She looked much healthier than the last time he saw her, her skin flush and wounds healed, a faint smile on her lips as she walked up to him.  He stiffened a little bit when she grabbed the back of his head but relaxed after a moment as she pulled his forehead to hers. 

“Fool.”  She stated, eyes closed.  He hummed in agreement.  She pulled back then gingerly touched her forehead where his sticky blood had gotten onto her. 

“Let’s get you two stitched up?”  She said, eyes darting to his cuts.  The kitten, who had crawled over to the driver’s seat, suddenly meowed very loudly.  Furiosa jumped and Max cast a look of disdain to the small animal.  Toast peered around them. 

“What the hell is that?”

“Kitten.”  Max grunted, reaching in and pulled the kitten out by the scruff, its tiny body curling.  He handed it to the Dag and the girls all turned their attention to it.

“Where did you find this?”  Cheedo asked, looking ecstatic. 

“We had to go to Barter Town for guzzaline and I found this little bugger there.”  The Dag said happily.  Furiosa cast him a disapproving glance.  _Barter Town?_  

“Let’s get caught up in the infirmary, alright?”  Furiosa said, starting towards the lift.  The girls followed and turned to Max who seemed to still be contemplating whether or not to follow them.  He looked behind him to the entrance, to the Wasteland, vast and unrelenting, then turned back around, slammed his car door shut and followed them on the lift. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I start school again next week so either chapter updates will decrease due to the new workload or increase due to my history as a massive procrastinator. Only time will tell.

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from the song "hold on" by Alabama Shakes.


End file.
